iMark My Territory
by Tarafina
Summary: Sam was just putting her stamp on what was hers; nothing wrong with that.


**Title**: iMark My Territory  
**Category**: iCarly  
**Genre**: Humor/Romance  
**Ship**: Sam/Freddie  
**Rating**: PG  
**Word Count**: 2,380  
**Summary**: Sam was just putting her stamp on what was hers; nothing wrong with that.

**_iMark My Territory_**

There were four things in Sam Puckett's life that she valued enough to call dibs on and guard religiously.

Ham  
iCarly  
Smoothies  
And—

"Hey!" she shouted, blonde brows set heavy atop her narrowed eyes. Obviously this chiz-bag didn't get the memo. She wasn't surprised when said girl paused, stared wide-eyed at her and awaited the inevitable explosion.

So maybe Mama hadn't put her name all over it or lifted a leg and marked her territory so obviously. And maybe it was asking too much for a little common sense when it came to something like this. But to be so obvious was just stupid! Did this chick _want _her head dunked in the toilet? Because swirlies were a Puckett-special she was _so _willing to deliver on!

Stepping closer, the neon yellow laces of her converse sneakers untied and dragging along the floor by either of her feet, she stuffed her hands on her hips and raised a brow at the hand currently trying to sneak a feel up the boy between them's chest. Quickly, the girl snatched it back, and with a satisfied smirk, Sam moved a few feet to the side, slung her arm around said boy's neck and nodded.

"Hands off, chiz-face, this is Mama's."

With a roll of his eyes, Freddie sighed. "I'm perfectly capable of saying no to a girl, Sam…"

"Yeah? And when were you going to get to that? Before or after she picked out names for you geek-kids?" she snapped back with a scoff.

"You know, if we're actually going to be dating, you'll have to trust me more," he replied in his I'm-right-and-you're-a-neurotic-crazy voice.

"Or…" she suggested with false brightness, "I can mark my territory and you can get me some _ham!_"

He stared at her blankly but not five seconds later, he produced a baggie of ham from his pocket.

With a grin and a hoot of appreciation, she tore it open. And when some other girl happened to walk by and give Freddie the hey-you're-cute look, she growled through a mouthful of pork product, barking to scare her into a jog.

Despite sighing in a combination of embarrassment and resignation, he slid his arm around her shoulder and with a peck to her temple, he opened his mouth for a piece of ham. She hesitated, wanting to hug her prized food to her chest, but she supposed she kind of loved the nub, so she gave him a small chunk, feigning disinterest when he grinned in triumph.

…

So it was official, or, well, as official as Sam would let it be. It wasn't like she was going to voice it on iCarly in between random dancing and the chattering teeth race (don't ask). She and Freddie were dating, sort of, and maybe he occasionally called her his girlfriend and yeah, she had accepted that he was her boyfriend, even if she didn't use that term out loud, where people could hear her. She expected that after the incident at the party people would know, accept, and let it go. And maybe they did, but a certain someone _hadn't_.

"All I'm saying is if you weren't embarrassed to be dating me, you wouldn't mind holding my hand," Freddie argued.

"Ugh!" she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Could you _be _more of a _girl?_"

With a frown, he narrowed his eyes at her. "That's the way to a guy's heart, Sam, emasculate him."

"Who said I was looking for your heart?" she grumbled. "All I need is your pocket." With that, she reached over and stuffed her hand down his jean's pocket, searching around for Mama's jackpot.

"_Sam!_" he exclaimed, mortified. While he wiggled around, tugging on her wrist and trying to get her hand free, Sam finally pulled out the little zip-lock of ham he kept on hand for when she got out of control and he wanted to tame her… or when she was especially good and a reward was needed.

"Settle down, Fredweirdo, I wasn't feeling up your junk in public. I just wanted some sustenance," she told him, popping the bag open and draining the ham reserves into her open mouth.

With a sigh of frustration, he glared at her. "Remind me again why I put up with you?"

Talking while she chewed, she shrugged, "'Cause I'm awesome." It wasn't a question but a statement and while he didn't look like he agreed he also didn't refute it.

Leaning against the lockers, waiting for the bell to ring, Sam played with the drawstrings on her hoodie, all the while trying to ignore the put-out expression on Freddie's face. With a sigh, she finally asked, "Okay, _what?_"

"What?" he muttered back blankly.

Rolling her eyes, she turned toward him. "Spill. What's the big chiz?"

He sighed, shoulders slumping, and refused to look at her. "I don't wanna be your dirty little secret."

She snorted. "Trust me, Benson, with the amount of tick baths your mom gives you, you're nobody's dirty _anything_."

Tipping his head in irritation, he glared at her. "I'm serious, Sam."

"Serious like Meatball Monday or serious like a pop quiz?"

He blinked. "Serious like Meatball Monday is to you and pop quizzes are to me."

Her eyes widened comically. "That _is _serious."

He tried not to smile and failed. "So?"

"So what?" She frowned. "Wait, is it Monday?"

Turning toward her, he took her shoulders. "Focus, Sam!"

She stared at him.

"I want you to be my girlfriend and I want other people to _know _you're my girlfriend, and I want you to be okay with that."

With a long exhalation, she pursed her lips. "Want, want, want, Benson, you're so needy."

Before he could reply the bell rang and as people started moving toward class it was obvious he thought his time to convince her was done for. So with the nonchalance she was known for, she wrapped a hand around his neck, dragged him forward and planted a swift, deep kiss on his smooth, warm lips. And when her three second fine-here's-what-you-want-are-you-happy-now kiss lapsed into a full blown minute of hey-you-taste-almost-as-good-as-ham-and-I-kind-of-want-more she finally dragged herself back, only now hearing the whistles and giggling of her fellow peers.

"There," she said, a little breathless. "Point proven, public notified." Licking her lips, she cocked a brow. "We good?"

And with a goofy smile, he nodded. "Good," he managed, giving her a lame thumb's up.

"Cool." She shrugged. "See ya later."

As she started walking away, Freddie turned to stare after her, confused. "Hey… We have science together."

"Chyeah right," she replied, amused, walking in the opposite direction of the science lab.

With a sigh and a shrug, he accepted it as it was. Sam Puckett wasn't going to change and he really didn't want her to.

…

Nobody was more surprised that they'd lasted through into college than she was. Or that she'd even _gotten _to college. But she supposed she could blame that misfortune on Carly and Freddie, and maybe that time she actually studied in grade 12. In any case, Sam Puckett was officially a college freshman and the parties and freedom were calling her name. Especially the keg-stand currently in the middle of the room where people were shouting, "Chug, chug, chug!"

Mama _like_. And Mama would beat any pansy they lifted up there!

"Sam…" Freddie's voice chided warningly.

Her shoulders slumped. "Loosen the leash a little, Fredweirdo. Haven't you ever heard that animals attack when they get sick and tired of captivity?"

"It's why I doubled your ham intake, I was hoping it would tire you out quicker," he replied easily.

Doubled. _Sigh_. Sometimes she really loved that nub. Then again, if he didn't let her have a little fun, he was gonna be missing his dingleberries _verrry _soon.

"One keg-stand?" she asked hopefully.

He stared at her sternly. "No."

"Aw, come on!" she sighed. "I'll even pretend to listen while you go over today's classes if you just let me do this _one thing!_"

When did she start asking for permission anyway?

Oh, right, when Freddie became her unwanted conscious to all things that would eventually lead to her juvie record becoming an adult one. Man, sometimes she really missed being a minor and knowing that eventually, all of those not-so-bright-and-shiny transgressions would be wiped away.

He was beginning to crack though, she could tell. And so she slid a little closer and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his. "Come on, Hamcakes, give a girl a little leeway, huh?"

He was starting to smile and she could feel triumph on the horizon. If Carly were here, she'd have just had them distract each other before she made a clean break for the keg-stand. But it was just her and Freddie tonight and he didn't want a repeat of the first time she got drunk and streaked down the road screaming that she was the Ham Queen and all would be her mustard minions.

Knowing Freddie's weaknesses had gotten Sam some of her best memories and she could feel one brewing just then. So she carded her long fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck, smirking as he shivered and his dark eyes dilated. Since she was the only one who'd ever really, truly touched him, she'd done a lot of it and she'd learned every place and way to get Fredward Benson all tied up in knots. She had to be quick though because if he caught on, he'd turn the tables and she'd be the putty in his hands before she knew it. Kissing the corner of his mouth lingeringly, she nipped his lower lip and nuzzled his nose with hers. Once upon a time she couldn't imagine this kind of comfort or intimacy with anyone, let alone Freddie, but now, after years of it, it came so easily.

"Mama wants to play…" she murmured lowly, seductively, and let an exhale of shaky breath skitter along his mouth.

His hands flexed on her hips and then he swallowed tightly.

"_One _keg-stand and then we go," he said and even if he was slightly dazed, his tone was firm enough to tell her that _yes_, he knew what she was doing but he'd let it go this time.

With a laugh of excitement, she kissed him one last time and then made a run for the keg, shouting, "Move over, Pansies, lemme show you how it's done!" Half-drunk college guys were all for seeing this small, mouthy blonde toss her cookies after boasting up a storm and so it wasn't long before they had her feet up in the air and the beer nozzle in her mouth.

She was chugging up a storm with no end in sight and enjoying every second of it, until her upside down, slowly blurring eyes spotted _the enemy_. Some curvy red-head was sidling up to Freddie, making him _laugh_, making him _smile_, flipping her hair and giving him that come hither or whatever that dead Shakespeare dude would call it look.

Holy chiz cakes, she was gonna be kickin' some serious butt tonight if that hoe-bag didn't step off. Flipping her feet down to the ground, she tossed the nozzle away, ignoring how the guys both cheered and booed that she was quitting. While slightly unsteady on her feet after the onslaught of copious amounts of beer, she made her way toward the fuzzy shape that was her boyfriend and the Red Riding Whore.

"Sam," Freddie greeted, grinning. "This is Chelsea; she's in our English class."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, coming to a sudden stop when she realized Freddie was closer than she thought. His arm wrapped around her waist to keep her from slipping to the floor. Good ol' reliable Fredster. "Let's see if she can spell this…" She grinned sarcastically, cocking her head to the side, and then pointing a thumb back at Freddie. "Off. Limits."

The frustrated sigh Freddie answered back with made Sam pat his chest reassuringly. "No worries, I got this." Licking her lips, she leaned toward Chelsea the Boyfriend Stealer. "Listen… _Kelsey_… Freddie's not interested. He gets everything he wants and needs at home. All right? And that includes tick baths and triple ham sandwiches, all right?" she slurred, narrow-eyed. "So you can take your English-speakin' butt elsewhere."

Chelsea managed to look at Freddie, frowhed, and then quickly walked away.

"Sam…" he groaned.

"What?" She turned around, frowning at him. "You want me to call her back? You wanna go make super-smart-English-babies with her?" She shoved his shoulder but she was the one who stumbled back. "Listen up, Benson, 'cause I'll only say this once. You. Are. Mine." She pointed at him. "Got it?"

He looked more amused than angry now. "Yes, Sam… I'm yours."

"Good." Stepping closer to him, she pressed her forehead against hers. "But just to be sure…" Reaching down, she cupped him tight between his legs. "MINE!" she shouted, for all to hear. And all that was heard were shouts of amusement and whistling.

"Let. GO!" Freddie growled through grit teeth, partly from mortification and partly because she was probably gripping a little too hard.

"Oh. Heh. Right." With a giggle-snort, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I'm sleepy…" she yawned. "And I want ham."

With a roll of his eyes, he picked her up in his arms and started for the door. "You've already had your ham today."

"Fred-dieee…" she whined.

"Not gonna work," he sing-songed.

She ran her fingers through his hair, stroking his neck methodically. She'd convince him yet.

…

So…

_Clears throat._

As she was originally saying, there were _four_ things that Sam Puckett valued enough in life to consider hers and hers alone, so much so in fact that she might step up and show a little interest for once.

Ham (_duh!_)  
iCarly (which, of course, included Carly herself)  
Smoothies (best from The Groovy Smoothie)  
And…

Freddie Benson.

Her sort of, kind of, geeky but awesome, well… _boyfriend_.

_Shrugs_.

You know, not that she like cares or anything, but… Keep your eyes and your hands to yourselves, ladies, 'cause this Mama has marked her territory and she was more than a little possessive.


End file.
